


my house burned down

by writtentofreedom



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtentofreedom/pseuds/writtentofreedom
Summary: and I lost everything, again.Because that just seems to be how Azuma’s life works.





	my house burned down

He remembers how much fun it was, being able to act with so many kinds of people, so many interesting characters just in the cast. Tsuzuru had said he wrote the scripts based on them, and from what Azuma saw, he should have no problem in the future with making the roles eye-catching using such energetic personalities as his inspiration.

He wonders what their next play will be like. Is it Summer Troupe’s turn next, or Autumn? At some point, he stopped counting, stopped paying attention to the new posters on the wall as he passed by on his way to and from work.

One time, the director had demanded they all help make props, stating that they didn’t have enough time to force all the props onto one or two people and that at the very least they could all pitch in. Muku had accidentally knocked over a container of paint, spilling across a few bushes. They were all quiet, and he made his way over as Muku began to cry and mumble apologies, continuing to do so even as Azuma wrapped his arms around him.

That was sometime in the beginning, though. He wonders how much stronger Muku has gotten, how much braver he is now. The tears will always be a part of him, Azuma knows, because that’s just how life is, but they came less and less as he continued to act, continued to grow. He was on stage the last time Azuma went to watch, and Azuma felt his chest warm at how wonderful the performance was, how much better each of them had gotten.

A corner of his chest tugs downward, reminds him of how nice it’d have been to watch them all grow, but the world doesn’t work in hopes and no matter how nice it’d be, it’s not for him. He’ll accept what he’s given, and he was given the chance once upon a time to work with these brilliant people.

 

He remembers the day he left, remembers how apologetic the director looked as she handed him the envelope and thanked him for everything up until then. She cried a little, he notes, little tears in the corner of her eyes as she choked up the words. He did too. His voice hitched in the middle of his sentences as he tried to brush it off.

“I’m going to be alone again, aren’t I?” he had said, shaking his head and hugging her, “Things like bonds with others are like this after all.” And that was that.

They gave him time so he could find new housing before needing to leave, a small bit of kindness. Really, everything about the event had been kind considering what was happening. None of them wanted him to leave, they assured him. Some decisions just needed to be made. He believes them, believes in the dried streaks on Izumi’s cheeks and the frown on the manager’s face as Azuma said his goodbye to Kamekichi.

He called up his old workplace, let them know he’d be starting again the next day. They welcomed him back with open arms, of course. He’d always been popular there. He opened the envelopes and counted and put away everything properly.

After the phone calls were made and everything was done, he let himself sit, let the dorm’s midnight atmosphere sink into him one last time. The walls were thin enough that he could hear Homare’s pen scratching, could hear Tasuku’s quiet rumbling snore. A series of light footsteps told him Tsumugi was also still awake, so he went to find and join him in whatever adventure he had planned that night.

Tsumugi was engrossed in staring at the moon outside to the point he didn’t notice Azuma standing beside him until he turned his head, did a double-take, and yelped. Azuma laughed and watched as Tsumugi slowly returned to ease.

“You startle so easily it’s adorable,” he commented, head in his arms.

“Ador- That’s-” Tsumugi stumbled a little before settling with, “Th-Thank you.”

“Absolutely adorable. I’ll miss being able to see your precious little face all the time.” Ah, bad choice of topic. He could feel the mood somber. Tsumugi seemed to feel it too, moving so his arm almost touched Azuma’s.

“I’ll miss you too.” He smiled shyly. “Will you still come to watch our plays? I’d understand if you don’t want to.”

He wrapped an arm around Tsumugi’s shoulders, pulling him closer and nuzzling against his face. “I will, I will. Don’t worry.” The little chuckles he felt from Tsumugi were warm, and he kept them as his protection against demons in that final night.

 

He remembers his parents despite all attempts not to, clutching at the memories of Mankai and hoping they’d chase his worries away. The old dreams still come, wispy little images of his mom and dad as they walk out the door, the knowledge that they won’t come back doing nothing to prevent their departure.

They didn’t want to leave him. He believes that, the words the doctors told him after they’d looked over the bodies. He believes it whole-heartedly in the same way that he believes Izumi and everyone in Mankai didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want him to leave. The world doesn’t run on hopes and wants, however, and he has accepted that, had accepted that his fate is one of solitude.

 

He remembers his customers commenting on his changes after he came back, saying he’s different now. They wouldn’t say if it was a good or a bad kind of different, only that he’s changed. They still pay to have him in their beds, asking him to dine with them so they wouldn’t have to eat alone, to whisper pretty words as they drift off.

“You feel a lot more genuine now, I think.” The lady smiles, sipping her wine, and he smiles back. Inside, he knows he has the Mankai to thank for that, for both furthering his acting abilities and for showing him what true companionship is like, something he realized he has forgotten.

“It’s because I missed you,” he says instead, and the lady giggles.

“Did you really? I missed you too. I’m glad you came back.” He’s not.

 

He remembers his first girlfriend, how hopeful he had been of finally having company after being lonely for so long. He’d dreamed about settling down with her, of having a family so big he’d never be lonely again.

She ended it, saying he wasn’t what she expected and that, in the end, she doesn’t believe they’d work as a couple. He accepted it, moved on, found another someone to dream about having a family with.

Eventually, he realized his mistake. He stopped dreaming of happiness, accepted that he wasn’t meant to have a family. He thought he knew that.

Apparently he didn’t. At some point, the Mankai became a family for him. He’d gotten used to the warmth of that home, to Tsumugi’s plants sitting in little pots on the tables and the smell of Omi’s cooking and the angry clicking of Yuki’s sewing machine.

His room in the dorms was kept the same way as his actual apartment was, with just the bare necessities. It was a habit to remind himself that this wasn’t home, that he doesn’t really have a home. Home is whoever’s arms are willing to hold him for that night. It just so happened that the dorm and its inhabitants held onto him for a bit too long.

His house has always been too cold, too quiet, too empty. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this alone in his own house, though. He places the plant Tsumugi gave him onto the counter, pours a bit of water into the soil. It’ll probably die in a few days. He’s not meant to have a companion, not even in a plant.

 

He gets a vacation day, some kind of public holiday. Shrugging, he goes on a walk, letting the night air and the street lights draw him in and trying to ignore the posters on the walls detailing the Mankai Company’s latest hit show. It’s a futile effort, the bright colors and composition of the visuals bringing his eyes back before he can turn away.

It’s Winter this time, Homare poised elegantly at the top and Tsumugi’s body hanging below his fingers like a puppet held by strings. He notes from the names across the bottom that they still have yet to replace him. They should soon though, he thinks. A play with just the four of them must be rather difficult.

His feet lead him to the line before he can think, and by then he just helpless shrugs. It’s been a while, so it should be fine, he reasons as he purchases a ticket and goes to take his seat. Homare and Tsumugi greet the audience, reminding everyone to put away their cellphones and cry wholeheartedly if they wish to, Tsumugi stopping Homare before he launches into a poem.

He was wrong. It’s not fine, he realizes. Not when Tasuku’s tearfully shouting his lines and Tsumugi makes a show of breaking from his master’s hand as Homare collapses onto his knees and Azuma wants nothing more than to join them up there on the stage. He belongs there, he thinks. That’s his home up there, with them. It hits him full force, and he breaks into tears, the gladdest he’s ever been that their specialty is bringing the audience to a sea of tears he can hide his own in.

Unable to stay for the afterwards, he quickly heads back to his apartment, the rooms colder than ever after the realization. His hands go through with washing his face and applying the creams on the counter before bed, even as his head fills with fog. The bed is also cold, but he curls up and let the dreams drag him away this time. Maybe tomorrow, he’ll find another family. But then, that’s just another family to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in February and finished around June. And am only finally uploading this now, in October, because I got my ass kicked into doing so. I'm kinda sorry.
> 
> I wrote this before there were all that many translations, so I'm sorry if I got anything wrong.  
> Title from [here.](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=154)
> 
> Also apologies to my beta, cx. I kinda wrote this knowing they'd suffer, although I don't think either of us realized just how much suffering being an Azuma-oshi would be.


End file.
